


Gunpoint

by redsnake05



Category: Devil's Cub - Georgette Heyer, HEYER Georgette - Works
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Gun Kink, Honeymoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"You said I should be capable of putting a bullet through any part of you I chose at this distance," said Mary. "I shall take care to choose a part of which I'm not particularly fond."</i> There are benefits to Dominic teaching Mary to shoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunpoint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/gifts).



Dominic set out the target bottles in a row along the top of the wall. Mary sat on a comfortable chair, heaved out into the hot garden by a sweating footman, swearing under his breath, probably about the eccentricities of English milords. She couldn't imagine that their stay at the Tuscan villa was doing anything to change the local perception of the mad English.

Mary watched in some amusement as Dominic spaced the bottles carefully. She wouldn't want to say that he was fussing, certainly not to his face, but there was an odd element of precision to how he placed them. Mary supposed he didn't want any of them being knocked off by flying glass, should she manage to hit one of the others. It seemed a very kind precaution, when she was very sure she wasn't going to hit anything.

Dominic paced about six steps back from the wall, looking critically at the ground, the sun, and the direction of the wind. 

"We're not going for accuracy," he announced, glancing round to see Mary sitting waiting in her chair. "But I do think that if you should happen to shoot me again, it would be better if you kept your eyes open and aimed the pistol."

"Yes, Vidal," said Mary. "Is this so that I can murder you more surely?"

"You never know when you might want to be rid of me," Dominic replied. "Besides, if my wife shot me, how embarrassing it would be if she couldn't aim."

"Yes, _that_ would be the most embarrassing part," Mary replied. "But, of course, you know so much more of shooting people than I do."

Dominic grinned and sauntered over to her chair. He had stripped out of his coat and waistcoat, his lace ruffled sleeves rolled up out of the way and his cravat discarded on a tree branch. Mary thought of the disapproving look Timms would give her when he saw his lordship later, but she had to admit to herself that this casual, rumpled husband of hers made her heart beat faster whenever she saw him. In the three months they'd been married, travelling through France and Italy, she'd never seen him look better than like this, when they were alone and he was simply Dominic, the wild, passionate boy she'd fallen in love with.

He held out his hands and Mary took them and allowed him to pull her to her feet. 

"Besides, you never know when you might want to shoot someone," he said. 

"It is a feeling I have become familiar with recently," Mary said.

"Is it now?" he asked. "From the moment you signed that damned register, no doubt. You're becoming more of an Alastair by the day, my dear. For today, though, we'll just try to shoot some bottles. You can save me up for later."

Mary looked dubiously at the bottles, then at the small pistol Dominic had dug out of his pocket and was holding out to her. 

"You've done it before," he said, coaxingly. "I'm sure you can manage again."

"Shooting you was not a particularly high point of my life," Mary said, severely. "This is hardly encouragement to try again."

"Behaving badly enough that you had to shoot me was not a high point of mine," Dominic said. She risked meeting his gaze and saw his expression rueful, soft, and knew then that this, these lessons, were a way to make that memory less painful. They could replace that moment, when she was scared and he was hateful, with something warm and trusting between them. She smiled then, heart easing.

"Your logic is irrefutable," she said, and took the gun from him as he'd shown her. 

Dominic stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face the fence. She held the pistol in both hands and straightened up, fingers relaxed, feet apart.

"Just like I showed you," said Dominic. Unbidden, Mary's mind conjured up rather a lot of other things he'd shown her, none of which were conducive to good aiming. She took a deep breath and raised the gun. 

The explosion was still a shock, but less of one. She kept her eyes open and tried her best to squeeze gently on the trigger, whatever that meant. None of the bottles moved, but a satisfyingly large chunk of wooden fence was dug out no more than a few inches away from the bottle right next to the one she'd been aiming for.

"Not bad," said Dominic. "Here, I'll get you the other gun, then you try with that one while I reload this. It won't be long at all before you could put a bullet through any part of me you chose from this distance."

>>>>

Dominic exaggerated, of course, but still the day came, sooner than Mary had expected, when she could hit the bottle she aimed at more than half the time. She watched Dominic as he cleaned and reloaded his pistols in the fading afternoon sunlight. One of the disapproving servants had brought out a tea tray, and Mary ate a little sweet almond cake as she watched Dominic's profile.

She considered how this ritual, of trust and intimacy, had grown between them, and how very different it was from the last time she had pointed a pistol at him. She thought about how very different it would be, now, if she was to do it again. 

An idea occurred to her, and she looked speculatively at Dominic, from his carelessly rumpled hair, down his lean body to his neatly booted feet. Dominic had taken the initiative to change things between them and rewrite the mistakes of their earliest acquaintance, so to speak. There was an opportunity for her, now, to do the same. 

"You look to be scheming something, my dear," said Dominic. Mary raised her eyes to his face to see him watching her with a gleam of amusement.

"Too much time with my husband," she said.

"The wicked marquis?" he asked.

"I have known him to be wicked," she acknowledged, "though I've heard he is not considered dangerous until the third bottle."

Dominic put the pistol down, now clean and loaded, and stepped closer. He put his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned down. Mary smiled up at him, tugging him closer and stopping his mouth with a kiss. She slid her fingers into his hair, down his neck to dip inside the open collar of his shirt.

"And _I_ am the wicked one?" he asked, as she let him go.

"It is your lamentable reputation, my lord," she replied. Dominic laughed and dropped to his knees in front of her, shifting his hands to her legs, to bunch up the fabric of her skirt and petticoat. She kissed him again as his fingers slid under the material at last, brushing over her ankles, sliding up her calf, his calluses catching slightly on her stockings. She shifted, drawing him closer, between her thighs, and his fingers tightened on her skin, curling hard on her knee where her stockings finished. 

Mary tugged his shirt free enough to touch his belly, fingers soft and teasing as they ran over his waistband. His kisses were hard, demanding, and she answered them with equal passion. She'd not imagined she could catch fire like this, from the heat of Dominic's hand on her skin, from the freedom to touch him. It was dizzyingly sweet and sharp both. She ran her hand down, to press on the front of his satin breeches, and was answered with a groan, and his mouth on her neck, soft kisses mumbled down her throat. 

The chair went tumbling backwards as he hauled her down to the grass with him. She went with it, careless of grass stains, and they kissed again as she pulled him close with her hands up his shirt and he mumbled curses and endearments between kisses as he fought to get his hands back under her skirt. She loved this, the way he would lose himself in the desire they created, so different from how she'd imagined he'd approach loving, in her unformed imaginings. His passion never felt practiced; he was the wild, unrestrained boy she'd always glimpsed beneath the facade of a notorious marquis, and he made her feel free to express her own desire.

The dinner bell sounded from the house somewhere, faint but insistent. Dominic swore softly and stopped fumbling with her clothes. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down into Mary's face.

"Well, my wicked wife, I would suggest we let dinner be damned, but we'll have Timms out here shortly."

"I am sure my abigail would leave my service immediately," said Mary. 

Dominic heaved himself upright and helped Mary up rather more tenderly. He picked a few twigs from her hair ruefully. 

"They will both leave, my dear, and we'll be left to scramble into our clothes unaided," he said. Mary smiled and shook out her skirts as Dominic haphazardly tucked his shirt back in and scooped up his coat and waistcoat. He reached for the box of pistols, but Mary forestalled him.

"I shall carry the box of pistols, my lord," she said, "and feel more of an Alastair with each step. You carry the tea tray."

Dominic laughed and handed her the case. "Very well," he said, "but you shall bear the blame when the entire domestic staff, revolted by our madness, flees the villa and leaves us."

"Then we shall invade the kitchens, and I shall teach you to cook," Mary said. "I shan't fob you off with gruel this time."

"No, indeed," said Dominic. "I shall scrub vegetables in your reign of domestic tyranny, living miserably under the cat's foot."

They walked back to the house in perfect content, laughing and planning their hypothetical banquet, until pounced on by their staff and whisked away in profound disapproval to dress for dinner.

>>>>

Mary hurried out of her dress and into her nightgown. She took her hairbrush from her abigail as soon as her hair was tidy and firmly dismissed her. Locking the door behind the girl, Mary sat at her dressing table and opened the box she'd left there. The pistols gleamed in the candlelight, and she considered them for a moment, wondering if she should unload one, just to be safe. 

Before Mary could second guess herself further, the door to Dominic's room opened and he strolled in. He'd discarded his coat again, but was otherwise still fully clothed. Mary had discovered that Dominic disliked being wrapped in nightgowns and caps. She was very glad of it now.

Not giving herself another chance to think, she picked one pistol from the case and turned on her seat at the dressing table. She kept her fingers relaxed and her arms braced, just as he'd taught her.

"Stand still," she said.

"Mary," he started, stopping short as he took in the pistol held very capably in her hands.

"Strip for me," she said. He swallowed, hard, and she noted the high flush of passion start to burn on his cheeks. She felt hot herself, and it was an effort to stop her arms from shaking. When he hesitated, she continued, "You said I should be capable of putting a bullet through any part of you I chose at this distance. I shall take care to choose a part of which I'm not particularly fond."

Dominic was still a moment longer, while Mary held her breath and hoped she hadn't gotten this wrong. Then he smiled, and it was a sweet, lustful smile, one that promised very good things. It wasn't a masterful smile, it was even a little wistful, and his voice was soft as he replied.

"As my lady wishes," he said. Mary watched as he slipped open the buttons on his waistcoat and discarded it carelessly on the floor. His shirt went next, heaved off over his head and thrown aside. He paused, looking at her, and she didn't move the gun. She felt hot with desire, with the pleasure of telling him to do things they both wanted; she shifted in her seat, but the gun didn't waver.

Bending over, he got stuck on the buckle of one shoe. He sat on the floor to wrestle with it, cursing with his hair falling down over one shoulder and finally got it off. He flung the shoe behind him, followed by its partner. His stockings followed swiftly.

He got up on his knees, one hand on his hip while the other toyed with the buttons on his breeches. He looked a little uncertain for a moment, as if he wasn't sure this was really something he should be doing.

"All of it," said Mary. She wanted to see him naked, to see him bare and at her command. He was all hard muscle, his face open and strangely vulnerable, and he was all hers. She pushed aside her shyness, concentrated instead on the sweetness of his compliance. "I want to see you."

He got to his feet and popped the buttons, wriggling out of the remaining cloth and kicking it away from his feet. He was beautiful in the candlelight; all warm, inviting skin, with his hair tumbling free. He held his arms out, palms up, as if to say, 'here I am, what will you do with me?'

"Come several steps nearer," invited Mary, putting the gun down at last. Dominic crossed the space between them in three swift strides and heaved her up into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he kissed her fiercely. They landed in a tangle on the bed, Dominic's mouth and hands possessive on Mary as she arched up against him. He wrestled her nightgown up and she pulled it up and over her head as he lowered his mouth to her breasts, to suck and kiss the soft skin there. 

Throwing the nightgown off the edge of the bed, Mary wrapped her arms around Dominic's shoulders, hooking one leg up over his waist as he pressed her down into the sheets. He touched her intimately, finding that place that made her gasp and cling closer. He moved down, mouth open on her belly, lower, tongue on that place too, and she curled her fingers tight on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

It was glorious, the hot, frantic feelings surging through her, squirming desperately against his mouth, his fingers. His tongue was an insistent flicker on her most sensitive skin, and she pushed her hips up, into his face, wanting more. She pulled his hair, wanting more, even more, as his fingers worked inside her in a swift, hard rhythm that matched his lips. She hadn't even known this was possible, but gave herself up to the sweet pleasure of his lips, his tongue, his fingers in a relentless push and pull towards ecstasy. 

She let the sweetness of her pleasure wash over her, feeling her body clench under him, fist in his hair keeping him still as the wave broke and she gasped and bucked. 

She let go of his hair as he crawled up over her, and she touched her fingers to his mouth. 

"Mary," he said, in a soft, pleading voice, his desire still evident, hard against her thigh. 

"Oh, yes," she said, pulling him close. He was inside her without hesitation, urging her legs to wrap around his waist as he plunged quickly, urgently, into her body. "Oh yes," she said again, "oh my wild boy, that's it, so sweet, so good."

Dominic bit her neck, teeth delightful on her skin, one hand clamped hard on her shoulder, holding her like she might disappear.

"I'm all yours," Mary said, soft and low, relishing the feel of his hard body, lost in the heat of their loving, relishing the way he gasped into her skin, the way his breath came ragged, the way he groaned her name again as he reached his climax inside her.

She felt tender towards him, as she smoothed his hair back off his face, as their mingled heartbeats slowed. He shifted, not to squash her, and hummed with pleasure as she stroked slowly over his back.

"I like how you see me," he said. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. "I like how you see _me_ , not the wicked marquis."

"I don't think I will ever tire of seeing you," she said. She touched his face again, smoothing her thumb over his cheek, and thinking of the surety, the tenderness, she found with him. Dominic was surprising, yes, and she supposed she must be, too, in her own way.

He shifted, rolling away to recline against the pillows and she followed, wriggling up the bed and getting comfortable. It was a prosaic sort of a moment, with tugging the sheet up and getting it free from where it had wound around his foot. He fluffed her pillow for her and kissed her lips. She looked up at the canopy and smiled. This was the sort of everyday comfort she'd never expected to get.

"If you ever hold a gun to me again, I will spank you," he said. 

"I shall be sure to restrain you before I shoot you again," Mary said. The image of what she could do with him tied securely to the bed popped into her head, and she looked at him speculatively, to see him looking at her.

"I have to spank you _now_ ," he said, rolling her over and smacking his palm against her bare skin. "Why ever did I think you devilish straightlaced?"

Mary laughed and rolled back over, pushing the sheet down and climbing on top of her husband. "It must be the company I've been keeping," she said.


End file.
